


There's A Whole Lot Of Heart In Me

by wtfoctagon



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Gen, everybody loves haru, just somewhere to put my soft lonely haru feelings, what's better than this? just kids being pals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2020-07-11 11:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfoctagon/pseuds/wtfoctagon
Summary: And where did the distant, disaffected student council president who had no comment on even the most dire events at school go to, the one that asked not to be bothered during her studies and cared for little else? Yes, Haru had sort of… vaguely noticed that Niijima Makoto had become more outspoken at some point during the summer, walking through the hall with her head held high instead of stuck in another textbook. But this is another thing entirely. Haru stares at the student council president standing in the lobby, shoulders squared and determined not to leave the side of a peer who needs help and thinks that she looks like… like a real leader.//The Phantom Thieves as seen by Haru; sometimes from a distance, and sometimes from so unbearably, wonderfully close.





	1. this goddamn sunset is a specimen

**Author's Note:**

> the first bit takes place during their hawaii trip, then the second part is her reminiscing in Leblanc sometime in the fall/winter.
> 
> Just been having a lot of Haru feelings lately, folks!

It takes Haru a moment to notice the crying girl and the student council president in the lobby. 

She’s nursing a sub-par coffee while sitting on one of the lobby chairs because the hotel breakfast cafeteria is closed and she can’t sleep— she’s always been really sensitive to time zone differences— and it takes her by surprise, because she wasn’t expecting any of the Shujin students to be awake and roaming at this time. Concern grips her for a moment before she figures— Niijima-san is taking care of it, right? There’s no reason for her to be sticking her nose into things.

“This place has a famously large Japanese population, and they can’t find one translator?” Niijima mutters as she taps something out on her phone. 

The girl mumbles something inaudible, clutching a small bag to her chest with her eyes glued to her feet. Haru takes a sip of her coffee. Poor girl. She looks terrified. Haru wonders what happened.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Niijima says as she pockets her phone. “My English wasn’t very helpful either. Don’t worry— I’ve texted Takamaki Ann. She’s from class 2-D, if you know her?”

Another set of mumbling that Haru can’t quite hear. The girl shakes a little harder.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Niijima says, and it catches Haru off-guard because that’s… quite a bit more gentle than she had imagined Niijima Makoto could be. “You have your passport with you, yes?”

The girl nods.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. Takamaki-san will get here, and explain everything to the staff. Worst comes to worst, you can stay in my room until the morning and then the teachers can help us sort it out.” Niijima puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Okay?”

The girl nods again before sniffling and wiping at her eyes, and Haru can just barely hear her this time. “I’m sorry— I know I shouldn’t be panicking so much— it’s just—”

She stops and starts mumbling again. Niijima shakes her head, and Haru thinks she sees her squeeze the girl’s shoulder somewhat.

“There’s no need to apologize. You said this was your first time travelling abroad, yes? It can be frightening to have something happen so far away from home.”

And where did the distant, disaffected student council president who had no comment on even the most dire events at school go to, the one that asked not to be bothered during her studies and cared for little else? Yes, Haru had sort of… vaguely noticed that Niijima Makoto had become more outspoken at some point during the summer, walking through the hall with her head held high instead of stuck in another textbook. But this is another thing entirely. Haru stares at the student council president standing in the lobby, shoulders squared and determined not to leave the side of a peer who needs help and thinks that she looks like… like a real leader. 

(Something that’s sorely lacking at this school, sometimes.)

A pair of long, slender legs power walk past Haru, and she looks up just in time to see a flash of blonde hair hurrying towards Niijima and the girl.

“Makoto!” calls out a girl that Haru recognizes as Takamaki Ann; she blinks in surprise. Since when were they on first-name basis? 

“Ann,” Niijima says, and wow— they really are closer than Haru thought. “Thanks for coming— sorry it was so sudden.”

“No worries,” Takamaki says, “you said someone lost their keycard?”

Niijima nods. “Matsubara-san left hers in her room accidentally, and we’ve been having trouble asking them to issue us a new one.”

“You have ID, yeah?” 

The girl— Matsubara— nods, sniffling again. “I have my passport with me.”

“That’s lucky!” Takamaki says cheerfully. “I’ll explain what happened, and they’ll make a new one for you right away. Come on!”

They walk towards the front desk, out of earshot, and Haru goes back to staring into her now lukewarm coffee. Takamaki’s cheerfulness isn’t… new, exactly: Haru’s seen her around school with those two other boys, laughing and horsing around to their heart’s content. Still, it’s a bit of a far cry from the quiet, almost standoffish impression she got from the girl in the past year. Seeing her bloom so unapologetically into herself after Kamoshida had resigned has given Haru a sort of… distant sense of relief and fascination. 

(And, maybe, even a bit of envy.)

“Thank you so much!”

The much brighter and hopeful voice of Matsubara jolts Haru’s attention back to them. The three are walking back towards the hallway to the rooms, a brand new keycard in Matsubara’s hands. 

“You’re very welcome,” Niijima says, with even a small smile. “Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.”

“And me too!” Takamaki chimes in. “You can just ask Makoto for my chat ID if you need.”

“I will— thank you both so much!” Matsubara says again, holding her new card and bag to her chest, but seemingly more out of relief than anxiety. “Good night, Niijima-senpai, Takamaki-san— and thank you again!”

“See you tomorrow!” Takamaki waves as Matsubara jogs back to her room. They stand in silence for a moment before Takamaki loops her arm around Niijima’s and giggles.

“Makoto, you’re so cool.”

Haru isn’t sure from this distance, but it almost looks like Niijima is blushing as she balks at Takamaki.

“Wh-what?”

“You are! You were all like,” Takamaki laughs, tugging Niijima closer for a moment before straightening up with a serious expression. “Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else,” she says in her best impression of Niijima before breaking into a grin. “And it was really cool!”

“I wasn’t—” Oh dear, is Niijima stammering? She’s more flustered than Haru’s ever seen her. “That’s just— my responsibilities as the student council president include taking care of the students and—”

Haru knows it’s rude to stare, but the seemingly unflappable Niijima Makoto is… blushing and smiling as Takamaki hangs off her arm and compliments her.

“And you’re really good at it, you know. I totally swooned!” Takamaki goes in for the kill, wrapping her arms around Niijima’s shoulders instead. “Ooh, Niijima-senpai, ooh!”

Niijima breaks into a laugh at that, grabbing onto Takamaki’s arms and leaning away from her teasing. “Oh, stop it,” she giggles, “you’re embarrassing me!”

And that’s quite literally the first time Haru’s ever heard Niijima laugh like that— carefree, joyful, almost even girlish in its exuberance— and as the two girls walk away into the hall, still giggling and holding onto each other, Haru thinks to herself… oh. Isn’t that just… so nice? Being able to just… exist, like that, loudly, together, without worrying. Having someone to be so close to. 

She takes a sip of her cold coffee and tries not to cringe at the taste of ash that coats the back of her mouth. Well. It’s time for her to try and get some sleep too. 

* * *

“Haru?”

Haru blinks, continuing to run her fingers softly through the mess of long orange hair currently in her lap. “Hm?” she glances up at Ann across the table, tilting her head inquisitively. 

Ann mirrors her, flicking her pen in her hands as she leans over her homework with a slight frown. “Are you okay? You seem kinda… zoned out.”

“Oh…” Haru shakes her head. “Sorry. I was just… lost in thought, I suppose.” 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Makoto suggests, setting down her own pen as she starts sliding out of the booth. “I’ll order us some coffee.”

Sojiro laughs from behind his newspapers, setting them down to get a jar down from the wall of beans. “I told you, you girls don’t need to pay for anything while you’re here.”

“Please, Boss,” Makoto says with a wry smile, pulling her wallet out of her bag. “We can pay for our coffee. It’s the least we can do for imposing on a Sunday.”

Sojiro waves her off with a click of his tongue. “Oh, put that away. It’s not like I have any customers to be bothered with right now.” He puts a metal cup on his scale and starts measuring out the coffee. “Any other requests?”

“Curry!” Futaba demands, muffled against Haru’s sweater— Haru scratches her lightly behind the ear, smiling when Futaba stretches happily and snuggles closer into Haru’s side. The delicate smell of coffee flutters through the cafe as Sojiro chuckles and begins to grind the beans— roasty and earthy, with a hint of caramel, most likely picked from southeast Asia— Haru takes it in a slow, deep breath before sighing happily.

“Something on your mind?” Makoto asks as she slides back into the booth. Haru just smiles and shakes her head. 

“Just thinking,” she says, running her fingers through Futaba’s long hair. “This is really… nice.”

Makoto tilts her head, curious— like a puppy— and Haru thinks that she starts to ask for clarification when Ann plops her head onto Makoto’s shoulder, whining.

“I totally get what you mean,” she says, because she always sort of gets Haru in one vaguely empathetic way or another— “It’s so warm and cozy in here, I could just fall asleep!”

Haru smiles to herself as Makoto sighs and frowns, looking a little less serious than she probably wants to with wisps of Ann’s hair framing the side of her face. 

“Ann, you have a test tomorrow…”

“I knoooww…” Ann loops an arm under Makoto’s and settles in, closing her eyes. “Just give me fifteen…”

Makoto frowns— and maybe it’s the warmth of the cafe, maybe it’s the cashmere scent of brewing coffee, but she doesn’t seem to find the heart to say no. Haru takes it all in— all of them, just being here, together, with Makoto and Ann settling in for a catnap across the table, Futaba’s hair piled in Haru’s lap with her gangly legs dangling out the side of the booth—

Haru takes it all in, and sighs. What a lovely afternoon.


	2. the shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru didn’t know you could love a friend so much until she met the Phantom Thieves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the actual second chapter I intended to put but I just suddenly had a lot of Haru feelings and wrote this in one sitting and wanted to put it out there before I changed my mind. 
> 
> chapter title is from You Are The Moon by the Hush Sound

Haru didn’t know you could love a friend so much until she met the Phantom Thieves. 

She gets along with Ann the most, especially when they’re just hanging out and not separated by a grade and a floor at school. Haru loves everything about her, from the bold, colorful way she dresses, to just about everything that comes out of her mouth— she walks the world with a brightness that leaves everything she touches warmer for her presence, a lightness that never fails to bring an airy kind of joy to any room, even when she’s bickering with Ryuji. She puts her whole heart into everything she does, so much so that there’s just a fiery _ fullness _ to every single one of her feelings, one that inspires a kind of honesty in Haru— if Ann doesn’t hide anything and still shines so brightly, why should Haru? Ann is the effortless  _ why not _ to every one of Haru’s inhibitions and fears— the lighthearted invitation to break free of every  _ no _ and _ never _ that’s been leveraged against her her whole life. 

She’s just so… brave, creative, spontaneous— though Ann herself would call it impulsiveness with that sheepish smile that she gets. And that’s the saddest thing about her: she sees the world with such clarity, such a piercing kindness that hides itself away when she looks in the mirror. 

(If only, Haru thinks, if only Haru could show her that the most radiant thing about her isn’t the summer skies in her eyes or the marble curve of her cheeks, but the brilliance of her heart.)

Makoto, despite being the one Haru spends most of her time with, is a challenge. There are so many layers to her— the shy but easily excited, panda-loving girl who turns bashful when called Mako-chan; the regal, sophisticated student council president who walks the halls with a commanding grace; the fast, forceful Queen who shreds through enemies with a brutal precision—

And more that Haru’s discovering, more often accidentally than not. But Haru’s favourite side of Makoto is the warm, caring friend— the one who keeps an extra umbrella in her locker in case anyone forgets theirs on a rainy day, the one who always indulges Futaba when the scrawny girl wordlessly demands a piggyback, the one who brings lunch over to Yusuke’s dorm on weekends because they all know he’s just going to up and forget to eat if there’s no school bell reminding him—

The one who’s always there for all of them, every day, in the little ways that matter the most. 

(The one who held Haru’s hands and promised her that things won’t always be so hard— it will never stop hurting, but it will get easier to endure, someday, somehow.) 

And Futaba? Haru knows that, without a doubt, this loveable creature— the one that perches in her seat like a bright-eyed crow looking for the next opportunity for mischief, the one with the most delightfully unpredictable playfulness that Haru’s come to love, the one who jumps between the wonderful juxtapositions of talking faster than anyone can keep up with and communicating exclusively via body language— is the strongest member of the team by far. 

Because it’s not about the fact that she can’t walk thirty minutes without getting exhausted. It’s not about how worryingly fragile her wrists look, or the tiny amounts of food she can barely stomach each day. It’s about the fact that she was forced to watch her mother die right in front of her— the face that she was told that she was responsible for this death— the fact that she was blamed, beaten, berated, caged and starved until Sakura-san finally rescued her— the fact that she buried herself in her own room with the voices in her head telling her she deserved to die—

And still, and still, and still. She had the strength to stand up, and say no— this isn’t fair. This isn’t right. I don’t deserve to suffer like this. Please, help me— I want to  _ live. _

Haru can hardly stop herself from crying when she thinks of it— of everything Futaba’s been through. To have the courage to admit that she can’t do this alone and ask for help is something Haru  _ still  _ aspires to, something that  _ still _ feels so impossible. After all, Futaba had to come to her to help, didn’t she? Quietly, hesitantly, fumbling her words in a trembling voice so different from her usual lackadaisically disaffected drawl, said to Haru that she’s no good at this, but she knows how— knows what it feels like, so she’ll try her best if Haru ever wanted to like, talk or something—

Haru wrapped her arms around Futaba and pulled her into her chest, then, if only to keep her heart from spilling over. She held her close and knew that if she could fill the hole in Futaba’s heart left by her mother, even just a little bit— even just as the sliver of a shadow the night after a full moon— that would be one of the greatest things she would ever accomplish in her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, a story doesn't have to have a plot or coherent structure, right? Sometimes, a story can just be a loveletter to girls including the one whose perspective you're writing from and that's okay, right? right???????
> 
> and yes i KNOW one of the paragraphs is one big sentence I KNOW I KNOW OKAY i KNOW it's a cardinal writing sin but I liked the way it sounded leave me ALONE


End file.
